The McAvoys
by One Juliet Rose
Summary: And for a second he couldn't breathe as he thought, "You beautiful woman." And then he thought, "Fuck." - AU where Will and Mac are a divorced power couple, trying to figure their way out.


**The McAvoys  
**Chapter One: Irreconcilable Differences

* * *

_People Magazine, 30th August 2011: _

_"WILL NABS BEST ANCHOR NOD!  
__All the stories from last night's Broadcasting Awards, __plus **exclusive scoop** on Will and Mac's first reunion in years!"_

* * *

_28th August 2011:_

Will was knackered.

There he was, sitting on his sofa, nursing a headache from last night's adventures. And what a night it had been.

It all started, of course, with him winning the Best Anchor award. He stands by his ideology of 'screw the haters', but it was still nice to win the Oscar equivalent of Best Actor in his business, especially when you were up against all the biggest names in news. This was no easy feat, mind.

It also felt nice to finally dent CNN's dominating streak on the night by beating their 8pm anchor, Roger Cleef, and especially when he's the star of the show your ex-wife produces. Especially then.

Mackenzie looked beautiful last night. Dressed in an elegant, yet sexy, black Valentino gown, he had to admit that she owned the red carpet. The choice of dress perfectly suited the woman who was wearing it as well, Will thought.

That's who Mackenzie was, elegant yet sexy.

Boy, did he know it.

She also happened to be half the reason why he's having the headaches he finds himself in this morning, the other half coming from the likely possibility of an over consumption of alcohol the night before.

He wished the latter was the more likely cause of his pain, but he knew better than to fool himself like that.

* * *

_21st August 2011:_

"Mac, this is the dress for you. There is no doubt in my mind. Get it now or I'll get it for you."

Mackenzie McHale, also known as Mac, couldn't help but laugh at the wardrobe 'advice' she was getting from Sloan Sabbith, a fellow member of the CNN News team but more importantly, one of her closest friends.

There they were, right on 821 Madison Avenue, on 68th Street, shopping at Mac's favourite boutique.  
It seemed that this occasion just added to countless ones before, which showed Mac that no matter where she went, she would always come back to Valentino, because in this store is where the dress she had been looking for would lie.

And so her consensus rang true again, as before her hung an exquisite black dress, with a regal strip of white-silver running down its middle –

"It's a vintage Valentino from his 1982 collection," the saleswoman interrupted. "It really is a beautiful dress. Would you like to try it on?"

"Yes she would." Sloan interjected before Mac could say a word, so all she did was give the lady a smile as she took the dress and retreated towards the changing rooms.

"Thank you for that, I didn't realize I became incapable of speaking."

"Sorry Kenz, I'm just so excited for you and that dress!"

Mac giggled at Sloan's habitual amusing outbursts, which she always loved, as both ladies followed the saleswoman towards the dressing room.

Before Mac could even put her bag down to try on the dress however, her phone was buzzing.

It was Jim.

"Mac! Mac, where are you?"

"I'm on 68th and Madison. What's going on? You sound like you just ran a marathon."

"Mac, you need to get back to the studio. Now."

A frown formed on Mac's face. "What happened? Is everyone okay, Jim?"

"No, everyone's fine. It's Egypt."

"Okay, take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

"The rebel forces just advanced to Tripoli and they're winning, which is good I guess. Anyway, the point is, they're IN Tripoli and they're going to take the government back. It hasn't happened, but at the rate things are going, Egypt will be a very different place in an hour or two. Gaddafi is done, Mac. He's done and there's every possibility that he'll be gone on _our _watch, live from 8 to 9, Eastern Time. _On our watch._"

"We need to get it ready for the rundown."

"I know."

"Start now! Get everyone and start now. I'll be there in twenty."

"Got it. What are you doing down at Madison by the way?"

"Shopping!" Mac subtly shrieked into the phone as she gathered her belongings and motioned to Sloan that they had to go.

"What about the dress?!"

"Sloan, we have to go. I'll come back for it later."

"No."

And with that, Sloan grabbed the dress from the hanger and handed it to the lady abruptly – "We'll take it."

"Sloan!"

"No, Kenz! I am not running around New York looking for another dress again when the perfect one is right here! The Awards are less than five days away; leaving now, without getting this, would be pushing it a bit far don't you think?"

A moment of silence, and then –

"Okay, fine. We'll take it."

* * *

_27th October, 2011:_

"Will, Will, over here!"

"To the left, Will!"

"Will, right here buddy! Perfect!"

Will smiled as cameras continued to flash all around him – the damned paparazzi.  
It was the Broadcasting Awards, also known as the Oscars of news television.

His show, _News Night with Will McAvoy_, bagged nominations for Best Writing and Best News Ensemble while he himself was running for the Best News Anchor award, arguably the most prestigious one, although some would say that a Best Producer nod would be a greater victory.

It didn't matter to him anyway. He was here to enjoy the company of teammates and competitors, who are friends first, alike and celebrate the news. That's what it's all about.

Will gave the photographers one last smile before walking down the red carpet and finally entering the ballroom, a sanctuary away from prying eyes and into familiar territory.

All around him he saw faces of people he knew he would be speaking to some time tonight – friends, colleagues, ex-colleagues, role models, up and coming stars, the whole lot.

Will decided to make his way over to the bar and grab a drink before seeing everyone, until…  
He had spotted a womanly figure, clad in one hell of a dress, entering the doors where he stood just minutes ago. Well, wow.

His gaze ascended, from her long legs to the sway of her hips to the face he was so eager to see – who could this be?

And then he saw her.

And their eyes met.

And instantly, he knew.

And for a second he couldn't breathe as he thought, "You beautiful woman."

And then he thought, "Fuck."


End file.
